


The Winter of Our Discontent

by servantofclio



Series: Sewers to Stars [23]
Category: Mass Effect, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The winter of 2186/7 is the worst any of them can remember, thanks to the Reaper invasion of Earth. (Part of my Sewers to Stars crossover universe; you may want to read Beacon in the Darkness first)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winter of Our Discontent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [probablylostrightnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablylostrightnow/gifts).



> A companion piece to Next Time.

It’s the worst winter any of them can remember. 

It’s not just the weather, although that’s bad enough. It almost always seems to be cloudy, and the air feels gritty even when it’s clear. The cold starts creeping in by early November. Donnie had a long explanation involving particulate matter. Leo tuned it out because he didn’t want to hear how bad things might get. He got the gist of it: it’s cold, and likely to stay that way. 

But it’s not really the weather. It’s the war. 

They lose people, in the weeks after the invasion. They find people, too, but as they take more people under their protection, it’s inevitable that they’ll lose some. Casey’s friend Nick’s neighborhood gets hit hard. The turtles help them evacuate, but some of the neighbors don’t make it out, including Nick’s sister and her kids, and that’s only the first example. The Reapers go after large groups of vulnerable people. Hospitals. Schools. Big buildings like that get attacked, decimated, and razed quickly. They – the turtles, and what’s rapidly becoming _the Resistance_ – have to keep their people in smaller groups, scattered around the city. And kids, sick and injured people, and other non-combatants? Those people have to be surrounded by armed defenders, or gotten out of the city entirely. By boat, mostly, because the Reapers have destroyed the bridges. 

Leo thinks about moving more people underground. Some of the subway stations are occupied already. April and Casey and Kate and Maricruz don’t think enough people would go for it, so he doesn’t push it. Keeping communications open is a constant struggle. They have to keep putting up new transmitters as fast as Donnie can build them, because the Reapers keep destroying the old ones. Eventually they settle into a routine of sending runners across the city. Dangerous, but so is everything else they’re doing. 

They all get a lot of practice killing Reaper troops. They get good at it, good enough that they mostly come home unhurt. 

(“Is there a reason you guys don’t just use _guns_?” Maricruz demands once. Leo shrugs. He could explain that he’s been honing his skills with the weapons he does use for thirty years, or that guns don’t do a person much good when you get close to them before they see you coming, but he doesn’t really feel like having that argument with an ally.) 

In mid-November, Kasumi drops into their lives like a bomb, giving urgency and direction to their mission. Once she’s gone, taking the beacon with her, Leo is a little shocked at how brightly that handful of days stands out. In memory, it becomes a splash of color and humor against the gray grind their lives have become. The weather briefly turns bitter cold, and it wears them all down. The end of November passes, and nobody says a word about Thanksgiving, not even Mikey. 

One night in December, they’re making their patrols; checking on the safehouse where the sickest kids are staying, and find most of the kids sitting in a circle giggling over a spinning top and singing. 

“Not much for presents,” Adam says, “but it’s still Chanukah. Come on in and stay.” 

Adam’s a pediatrician, so they bring the kids who need care and medicine here. His wife Deborah’s a dermatologist, or she was. These days, she’s more of a field medic. 

“You realize we’re not Jewish,” Donnie says, and Leo adds, “We wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

Deborah smiles. The candlelight sharp, dark shadows across her pale face, turning the circles under her eyes into pits. She says, “Sit down, and I’ll tell you about Chanukah.” 

In the candlelight, she tells them a story about a long-ago rebellion against an oppressive empire. Leo listens to the rhythm of her voice, to the kids laughing. It still feels strange to hear no traffic noise outside. He’s still thinking about the story when they go home: about ancient rebels, and candles in the darkness. 

He folds a couple of animals to calm his mind, even though his bin of origami creatures is starting to overflow. His thoughts refuse to settle, though, circling round and round like crows. 

It seems impossible that they’ll win. Winning is for people like Shepard, out among the stars, fighting to find a solution. It seems especially impossible that they can hold out here on Earth long enough for that to happen. They are fighting a holding action, and there’s only so long they can hold out. There is a good chance that they will all die before any victory Shepard can bring them. 

Leo’s jaw aches. He forces himself to unclench his teeth. He is not prepared to give up, no matter how tempting it seems when he’s thoroughly exhausted. They’re just going to have to keep fighting, stay sharp, stay smart, as good or better than they’ve been doing. There’s no running now, no alternative but to keep fighting, keep planning, keep hiding, keep strategizing, keep guarding, keep ducking-- 

The paper in his hands tears and crumples. He’s been too rough with it. He sets it aside and focuses on breathing. In and out, calm and even. He has to hold it together, and he can’t afford to stay up all night fretting, either. His brothers don’t need the burden of his worries on top of their own. It’s not as if they don’t all know the score. 

He reaches out without looking and finds the poetry book Kasumi left him. Reading Japanese requires a certain mental concentration that’s restful, sometimes, and he spends the next half hour working his way through the verse and admiring the illustrations. The poems talk of stars and rushing water, sunlight and blades of grass. 

He puts the book aside when his eyelids finally grow heavy, and falls asleep imagining a future where they have those things again. 

# 

About a week later they have a close call. 

This Reaper attack happens in Adam and Deborah’s neighborhood. The turtles get separated quickly amid the mass of husks and other Reaper troops. Later, Leo will conclude that it was careless of them to let this happen. But he and his brothers are faster and more agile than most of the Reaper troops, and more skilled and intelligent than the rest. It’s not ordinarily a problem. 

His innate sense of where the others are in a fight (bone-deep, maybe even egg-deep, but honed with long experience) gets stretched while he’s decapitating marauders, so when the last of them collapses, chittering and sparking, Leo takes a look around to find the rest of them. He spots Donnie almost immediately, running interference between the husks and a group of kids trying to make it back to Adam’s safehouse. It’s one of the things Donnie’s best at, height and leverage and reach helping him scatter the enemy. He’s being pressed hard, though, so Leo’s pivoting to join him when he spots the brute. 

It rears back and roars and beats its chest, and a head-on charge will take it straight into Donnie or the kids he’s guarding, which means Donnie can’t move, or he leaves the kids entirely exposed. 

Leo flies without more than a moment to think. He jumps onto a bent streetlight nearby and uses it to slingshot himself in the right direction, trying to intercept the brute’s charge. He’s too far away for the jump, hits the ground in a roll, sprints the rest of the way, shouting, blade extended. Has a split second of satisfaction when his and the brute’s combined momentum drives the monster onto his sword, and then it’s coming at him, immense and roaring. 

The next thing he knows, he’s flat on his shell on the street, staring at the dark, hazed-over sky, and it hurts to breathe and his head is whirling. It’s too loud, too many sounds to sort out, and the air stinks like brute. 

One of the sounds resolves into Donnie calling his name. At the same time, a thought resolves itself, that the stink had better be _dead_ brute, or else Leo’s about to be trampled. He sits up, which turns out to be a very bad plan: his head and his chest both burst into bright pain, and he whites out again. 

The next time he comes around, there’s a ceiling over him when he opens his eyes. That’s promising. Not the lair ceiling, though, so he’s not sure where he is. Leo lifts his head cautiously for a look around. 

“You fucking idiot,” Raph says. 

Leo lets his head fall and makes a noncommittal noise. If Raph’s here, he’s presumably in a safe place. 

“Donnie told me what you did, goddamn it, Leo, what were you thinking?” 

“Thinking Donnie and the kids were about to get charged,” Leo says, and coughs. His mouth tastes like ash, and it feels like his side’s on fire when he coughs. 

Raph growls and props him up, shoving pillows behind him. He does it a lot more gently than Leo might expect, all things considered. Then Raph hands him a glass of water. “So you thought you’d let the brute splatter you instead, got it. Great plan. Just fucking stellar. This is the stuff of strategy and leadership, right here.” 

“I miscalculated,” Leo says after nearly draining the glass.

“ _Miscalculated_.” Raph’s voice is rising. “How stupid are you? Don’t ever fucking do that again.” 

Leo sighs. “Did I get it, at least?” 

Raph glowers at him. “You don’t get to be proud of yourself for that one. And Donnie had to finish it off. But yeah.” 

Leo musters up a half-smile, and Raph growls again. “I said don’t.” 

There is no point in trying to argue with Raph when he’s like this. Particularly because Raph only gets this particular kind of angry when he’s terrified, and Leo is genuinely sorry about that. Instead, he lets his eyes wander around the room. Mikey’s up and around, entertaining a cluster of kids by doing handstands. Deborah’s across the room stitching up something on Casey’s upper arm. Leo doesn’t spot Donnie or April right away, and has a brief moment of panic. “Where’s--” 

“Everyone’s fine,” Raph snaps. “Except you and your busted ribs.” 

Leo breathes out, letting the panic go. “Probably a concussion, too.” The dull, heavy feeling is unfortunately familiar. 

“I’m not surprised by that. You don’t seem to have cracked your skull, though,” Donnie says, appearing at Leo’s other side. “You hit the ground pretty hard.” 

His tone of voice is carefully restrained, but his eyes are careful and worried. Leo tries to produce a more reassuring grade of smile. “I’m okay.” 

Donnie snorts, busying himself checking bandages. “No, you’re not, but it could have been a lot worse.” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Raph mutters. 

When they go home, they take it slowly and carefully. Leo refuses to be carried, although he agrees to use one of the patrol buggies, and even with that, he’s more than glad to collapse when they get back to the lair. His family doesn’t let him do _anything_ for nearly two days, most of which he spends asleep. After that, he gets sick of his room and hauls himself out to the couch. That journey hurts enough that he just sits for a while, breathing carefully, and it takes him a moment to realize there’s fake-evergreen garland strewn around the room. 

“Morning, bro!” says Mikey, coming in with an armful of tangled Christmas lights. “You feeling better? You want some food? Tea? Anything?” 

Leo blinks as Mikey plugs the massive string of lights in. “Tea would be great. Mikey, what are you doing?” 

Mikey gives him a quizzical look. “How hard did you hit your head, dude? It’s almost Christmas.” 

“But--” Leo’s thoughts are still running heavy and slow, or he could come up with something to say. Something about how pointless it is, how bitter to compare the cheerful holidays of past years with the dismalness of this year. He gives it a try. “With everything going on, I thought--” 

“That’s _why_ , bro.” Mikey drops the lights and comes over to sit next to Leo. “I mean, that was way too close.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Leo protests, only to wilt under Mikey’s sudden scowl. The hovering is going to get old very quickly, but it’s always hardest to resist Mikey’s attempts to mother-hen. “It’s not going to be our last close call,” he mutters.

“Probably not.” Mikey squeezes his arm. “So we should have fun while we can, right? So what if everything sucks out there. I’ll put the lights up, and Raph and Casey are gonna find a tree, and April said she’d make cookies with me when she gets back from rounds. We’ve still got flour and sugar, we’ll figure it out. But first I’ll get you some tea and something to eat, okay? You gotta eat.” 

“Okay.” Leo pinches his eyes shut. The mention of rounds reminds him of all the things he’s let slide the last couple of days. While he was mostly unconscious, admittedly, but still. “Anything I should know? How’s our supply pipeline? Is Leatherhead keeping up the schedule to get people out of Manhattan?” 

Mikey’s hand is on his arm again. “Dude. Chillax. We got it under control. You just hang out and get better, okay?” 

Leo nods. He’ll have to ask somebody for a status report later. 

Mikey brings him tea and oatmeal, which he eats while Mikey puts the lights up, humming a mishmash of Christmas songs to himself. Casey and Raph come in an hour later dragging a tree they got who knows where, and laughing, and Leo realizes Mikey was onto something. 

It’s a quiet Christmas. They don’t really bother to exchange gifts, this year, but there are cookies and lights and they spend the day together, his father and brothers and Casey and April. Leo flips through his comics and resolutely does not let himself wish for one more person, not even when he sees Donnie and April cuddling up in a single armchair together. 

#

  
By New Year’s Eve, Leo is training again. Cautiously, and not without twinges of pain. But he’s used to training and fighting through pain. Besides, he and his brothers heal fast, and medi-gel helps a lot. He’s not willing to let his brothers keep fighting without him. Donnie and Raph came home the night before with some ugly gouges, and Mikey came home the time before that covered in bruises. It’s only a matter of time before something worse happens, and if Leo can make the difference, he will.

They wrap up their patrols early on this last day of the year, and Casey’s come up with a couple of bottles of champagne from somewhere. He hears the cork pop from the kitchen as he’s leaving the dojo, but Donnie intercepts him before he makes it very far. 

“You’re not pushing it too hard, are you? Because you’ll just re-injure yourself if--” 

Leo interrupts. He has heard this particular lecture enough times that he could deliver it himself, complete with Donnie’s emphatic gesturing. “I’m being careful. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.” 

Donnie stares at him with eyes slitted and mouth turned down. 

“Look, cracked ribs and a concussion do not put me at death’s door. You all need to relax.” 

Donnie does not look like he’s inclined to relax. “Go sit down and _rest_ and talk to Shepard.” He presses the tiny QEC into Leo’s hand and heads toward the kitchen. 

Leo stares at the little device, bewildered. “Uh… hi, Shepard?” 

“Hey, Leo!” Shepard’s voice is clear, though she sounds tired. “Are you okay? Donnie said you’d been hurt?” 

“I’m fine.” He settles himself onto the couch, only a little gingerly. “It’s not really a big deal. You know Donnie worries too much.” 

“Uh-huh,” she says. “I know you, too.” 

The last thing Shepard needs to be doing is worrying about him. “It’s really not that bad. How are things out there?” 

She lets out a short laugh. “Oh, the usual. Trying to get the krogan and turians to play nicely so we can all fight the Reapers instead of each other.” 

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” 

“Me too. When I joined the Alliance, I didn’t expect I was going to have to play diplomat one day. Not really my strength. But listen, I’m supposed to pass on a message.” 

“Oh?” Leo feels a brief flutter of anticipation. There aren’t all that many people who would want to pass them a message through Shepard. 

“Yeah. I saw Kasumi on the Citadel a couple days ago, and she said to say hello to you. You, specifically, that is, as well as you in general. And she said I should say thank you for the rose.” Shepard’s voice rises a bit at the end. 

So Kasumi had found his little gifts, then. “Oh,” he says. _Thank you_ isn’t much to go on, not even as much as the books laid carefully on the nightstand back in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see April kissing Donnie in the kitchen doorway and Casey slinging an arm around Raph’s shoulders while pouring champagne with the other hand, and the anticipation drains into wistfulness. “Did she say anything else?” 

“Not really, but we didn’t have much time.” Shepard sounds like she’s biting back a question. 

Leo decides not to answer any question she hasn’t actually asked. “Well. The next time you see her, tell her thanks for the book.” 

“Will do,” she says, and sighs. “Sorry, but I should go.” 

“All right. Good luck, Shepard.” 

“Good luck to you too,” she says softly, and clicks off. 

The others troop into the room then, bringing with them laughter and food and glasses of champagne. Mikey plops down on the couch next to Leo and hands him a glass and a plate. Leo takes them and leans back with a smile as his brothers start arguing about what movie to watch. The wistful sense of opportunities lost is easy to suppress. He’s whole (mostly); his family is alive and safe (relatively speaking); and they’re still holding on. For tonight, as the year of the Reaper invasion comes to an end, it’ll do.

 


End file.
